Homework WE 28/5/18 - The Restorer's Tale

[Shelley Hansen]

Wow! Everyone has been so diverse with their homework this week - hard acts to follow indeed!

My poem was prompted by friends of ours who are furniture restorers in Kallista, Victoria - in the Dandenong Ranges. He restores the timber and she is the upholsterer. They turn out beautiful work - and often tell stories of interesting items they find hidden in the depths of chairs and sofas! This week's prompts seemed to fit ...

The Restorer's Tale
(c) Shelley Hansen 14/5/18

The gates of the villa were open.
I turned at the crest of the hill.
My senses were filled with the sunlight;
each leaf in the garden stood still.
The air was alive with the whispers
of lovers who laughed and who wept.
I moved as in sleepwalking silence,
unwilling to tread where they slept.

I’d come to collect a commission –
A loveseat, once striped red and blue,
upholstered, but now sadly threadbare,
and split, so its wadding spilled through.
New owners had found it in pieces
and thought it might look rather quaint
updated to “shabby chic” finish
with pretty pink roses and paint.

I came very close to admitting
defeat as I tried to restore
this piece – for it seemed beyond saving
and bringing to beauty once more …
until, from the folds of the fabric,
a chain with a locket fell out.
Its gold bore the tarnish of ages –
a treasure, I knew, beyond doubt.

Releasing the clasp, somewhat breathless,
I opened its face to reveal
two images – sepia, faded,
yet somehow, still vibrant and real.
A handsome young man, a fine lady
stared solemnly, meeting my gaze.
Their headwear proclaimed without question
the styles of Edwardian days.

Who were they? My mind wove a story
with gossamer threads of romance –
perhaps a forbidden liaison
that died without having a chance?
Or maybe a sweet celebration –
a cherished affair of the heart,
uniting two families’ fortunes
by vows “until death us do part”.

I wondered if they stayed together
through life’s changing vista of years;
or were they soon parted by sorrow –
bereaved in a valley of tears?
Perhaps he had lost her in childbirth,
or maybe on some foreign shore
he lies in the ranks of the fallen –
a sacrifice offered to “War”.

The locket? How long had it been here?
Did one of them lose it and try
to search, but unfound, it lay hidden –
forgotten, as years filtered by?
Or was it placed here with intention –
to age like a fortified wine –
awaiting the touch of a stranger
with wayfaring eyes, such as mine?

I could not imagine the answers
to questions that burdened my heart,
and so with renewed resolution
I set about making a start …
So now, facing skywards through windows
that frame a white loveseat’s cocoon,
a chain with a locket lies open.
Together, they gaze at the moon.

[Catherine Lee]

Brilliant, Shelley - I especially love the first stanza setting the scene, and IMO your last line is inspired! In between, you have set about weaving all the questions any of us would ask ourselves when finding a treasure such as this. I also particularly like your lines: 'its gold bore the tarnish of ages' and 'to age like a fortified wine'. Great poem!

[Terry]

Another very well written and thought out poem Shelley, an entertaining as well.
You all write such great, but long homework poems - I'll bring a water-bag next time I attempt to read the lot at once.

Cheers
Terry

[Maureen K Clifford]

WOW! What a fabulous entrancing story, kept me entranced to the last word, wonderful work Shelley

[Wendy Seddon]

I managed an op shop for a while.
I loved imagining the stories behind some of the things held dear by their
previous owners then discarded by the next generation.

So sad sometimes. Felt like your poem Shelley.

[Shelley Hansen]

Wow - thank you so much everyone.

Terry - as you probably know, my homework poems are usually much shorter than this. However for some reason this particular set of prompts really fuelled my desire to tell a story!

Wendy - I think having an op shop would be both wonderful and heart-wrenching in the same breath! I would be wanting to discover the hidden stories behind so many objects! I once discovered one of my mother's paintings in an op shop. In her younger days she took commissions - and I remembered her doing this particular oil painting for an elderly couple. No doubt (as you say) after their deaths, it was discarded by the next generation. Of course, I bought it - so in a sense, it came home.

Catherine - thank you for your commendation, especially for noting the last line. I cogitated a long time over that one, and discarded many possibilities before I was satisfied.

Maureen - thanks again for an evocative set of prompts that got my storytelling juices flowing. You never know, I might just tweak it a bit and add an Aussie twist here and there - and see where it leads me!

Cheers
Shelley